


A Fragile Sort of Peace

by Loxare



Category: Discworld - Terry Pratchett
Genre: Book: Night Watch, F/M, Missing Scene, minor descriptions of wounds
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-17
Updated: 2019-07-17
Packaged: 2020-06-29 21:27:35
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19838833
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Loxare/pseuds/Loxare
Summary: "I'll teach him to walk!" beamed Vimes. "I'mgoodat teaching people to walk!"And he fell asleep before he hit the carpet.A conversation between a captain, a doctor and a new mother.





	A Fragile Sort of Peace

Sybil was tired. Well, if she were to be blunt, she was exhausted and in no small amount of pain. But it was more than worth it for the wrinkled, pink face peeking out of her shawl. Her son. He'd cried a bit when he had finally breathed his first breath, but he was settled now. Doctor Lawn sent for her Sam, but Sybil couldn't take her eyes away. He was breathtaking.

She heard the door open and out of the corner of her eye saw the familiar tarnished glint of sunlight on breastplate. “He's called Sam, Sam.” It had been a tradition, several generations back, for the Ramkins to name children after their parents. It had fallen out of practice when Sir Saul the Eighth had named all his sons Saul, who had named all their sons Saul. There had been eleven different Sauls to keep track of, and the numbering system had gotten very confused. Sybil, possessing more sense than her ancestor, was confident that this wouldn't be a problem and was happy to resurrect the tradition. “And no arguments.”

She had expected one, regardless. Maybe several. But Sam only said, “I'll teach him to walk!” His voice was joyful but hoarse. For the first time since Doctor Lawn had placed him in her arms, Sybil looked away from her son. “I'm _good_ at teaching people to walk!”

Sybil had barely taken in her husband – long cut over his eye, dark shadows under both eyes, a kind of sunken gauntness to his cheeks, hadn't gotten any kind of decent sleep in at least two days if past experience was guide – before he collapsed onto the carpet. “Sam!”

“Stay put, my lady,” Doctor Lawn commanded, even as he dropped to his knees beside Sam. “You're in no condition. And if memory serves, he's just exhausted.”

“But I saw him this morning,” Sybil protested, trying to get up anyways. To her frustration, her legs refused to listen to her. She flopped back onto the pillows. Baby Sam started fussing, sensing his mother's distress. She rocked him. “He was fine!”

Someone knocked on the door frame. It was Captain Carrot. “I heard a shout,” he explained, then saw Sam and Doctor Lawn. “Oh dear. The time travel must have taken more out of him than I thought.”

There was a moment of silence. Then, Sybil and Doctor Lawn said in unison, “Time travel?!”

Carrot nodded, helping Doctor Lawn lift Sam from the floor. “A small mishap at the Unseen Library.” Sybil nodded. She'd been in there a few times and even as non-magical as she was, she could feel the magic humming in the place. And of course, the Librarian had been turned into an orang-utan by some magical accident there. “He was only gone half an hour.” Sam was gently placed next to Sybil on the bed. She ran a hand over his face, careful not to touch the cut over his eye.

“Four days,” Doctor Lawn corrected. He leaned in to inspect the cut. “My stitches are gone. You, tall fellow, could you grab my bag? This split open when he fell.” He leaned back a bit when Carrot grabbed the bag from the other side of the room and handed it to him. Pulling out a needle and length of thread, he dipped both into a still steaming pot of hot water. “It isn't every day that a doctor stitches the same cut twice thirty years apart.”

“Thirty years?” Sybil looked at her Sam, hand still tangled in his hair.

“Almost to the day,” said Doctor Lawn, carefully inserting the needle into skin. Sybil, used to blood as both the daughter of a proud military family and a breeder of highly volatile dragons, shuddered. But she didn't turn away. “I'm not surprised. I was told he didn't sleep much at all once the revolution got going.”

“You don't mean-” Sybil broke off when she saw the look on the doctor's face. He did mean. She had heard of course. Sam had told her, a few years ago, when she'd asked him what the lilac meant. Stroking her husband's temple, she sighed. “Oh Sam.”

“What revolution,” Carrot asked, pulling off Sam's boots and putting them beside the bed. He thought for a moment, then said, “The Glorious People's Republic of Treacle Mine Road? That was thirty years ago.”

Sybil nodded. She wasn't sure which history book Carrot had read to know that, but it had to be an obscure one. “Sam was involved when he was young. On the barricades.”

“And when he was older too,” said Doctor Lawn, tying off his stitches and covering the area with a bandage. “As Sergeant-at-arms John Keel.”

Sybil gasped. John Keel's name had taken even longer for Sam to tell her about. Just last year actually, when he had been quite tired from a long chase and an emotionally taxing day. He had been his hero.

Doctor Lawn pulled up Sam's pant leg, putting a bit of towel under it. Another cut streaked across Sam's calf, bleeding heavily. “Aha. I knew I remembered correctly. Honestly, what did he expect, running halfway across the city with no stitches?” After sterilizing another needle and thread, Doctor Lawn got to work.

Carrot sat in the chair next to Sybil. “John Keel?”

“A sergeant who died in the revolution,” Sybil answered. Baby Sam fussed again. “Shh, my boy. Your dad is perfectly safe.” When Sam settled, she sighed. “Sam looked up to John Keel. He said he laid the foundations of everything Sam knows about being a Watchman.”

“I see,” said Carrot. “And Mister Vimes taught the rest of us.”

“All done,” said Doctor Lawn. “I don't think there were any more injuries. He doesn't seem to be bleeding any more at any rate.” The doctor tucked his needles and bandages into his bag, which he closed with a snap. “No more running across the city. And keep these very clean. There's two sets of stitching holes now, which means twice the chance of infection. And don't touch the eye for a few more days. As long as it doesn't get infected, he should retain his vision.”

Sybil nodded. “Thank you. And now, both of you, I don't want either of you to tell anyone about this.” She brushed a bit of short-cropped hair back from her husband's face. “Knowing Sam, he won't want to take away from the accomplishments of Sergeant Keel.”

“Understood!” Carrot snapped off a salute, even though Sybil wasn't a copper and definitely wasn't a superior officer.

Doctor Lawn nodded. “Not many people I could tell. Not many who would believe me. Give me a hand?” Together, he and Carrot unbuckled Sam's breastplate and put it to the side. Then they pulled the blanket out from under him and tucked him in. Sybil immediately snuggled in closer, putting Baby Sam in between them. “Good, get as much rest as you can. Your boy will wake you when he's hungry. Mrs. Content should be able to handle the after birthing procedures, but if you need anything you know where to find me.” And with that, he left.

Carrot snapped off a salute. “Sleep well ma'am. The Watch will be standing guard.”

Sybil nodded, yawning. “Thank you Captain. Dismissed.” He saluted again and closed the door behind him. Sybil maneuvered her arm so it was slung over both her son and her husband. Everything hurt, particularly everything below the waist. Even so, she could feel sleep steal over her. “Goodnight my Sam.” And, with a smile, “Both of my Sams.” And darkness stole over her like a blanket.

  
  


**Author's Note:**

> If everything that hadn't come with Vimes to the past stayed in the past, doesn't that mean his stitches did too?


End file.
